Adio, kerido
by oqidaun
Summary: A ghost from a watery grave visits the witch on the Pantano River demanding the return of a Captain's corpse. What makes a man worthy of a second chance? Takes place prior to the end of DMC. Title translates as "Goodbye, my Beloved" in Ladino.


**Adio, Kerido**

The life that teemed along the banks of the Pantano River recoiled from the cold current swirling around the woman who stood in the water at the edge of dilapidated dock. From the chest deep waters, the woman reached out and knocked on the warped wooden post. Her empty eyes watched for a sign that someone stirred in the shack and after a moment she knocked again more forcefully. Even with her tangled wet hair and cyanotic pallor the woman possessed air of elegant forthrightness as she stood in the water waiting. As she watched the orange glow of a lamp move past the dirty glass window and waited for the door to open, she pulled one of the layers of the shroud tighter against her shoulders. The witch emerged from her shack with a broad smile. The swish of her mismatched petticoats and the jingle of her charms and baubles broke through the oppressive silence that had descended on the swamp with the appearance of the woman in the water. At the edge of the dock, the witch crouched down to meet her visitor's empty eyes.

"And what bring dis spirit to Tia Dalma's door?"

"Madame," her voice was soft, but she spoke with authority. "I have come to claim the body of my husband. You have no right to keep him here."

"Him died wit him boots on land." Her face softened as she shook her head. "You died in da sea. I not da one keepin' him from you. You be da one not knowin' da way back to da road that turns at de apple tree. Him soul is there waitin' and him won't be going on wit out you."

"You have no right to keep him here and you will release the body of my husband. You are a witch and my people don't believe in you."

"And, here you be knocking on my dock wit teary eyes. You believe plenty."

The woman in the water moved closer to the dock. "Fine. Please then tell him not to wait."

"Him stubborn. Him not listenin' to me." She smiled her inky smile. "Him listen to you. Him listen to you always."

The women in the water drew back as the witch leaned closer.

"Da pretty niece of the silk merchant him fell in love wit on de day him saw her in exotic Istanbul. If your grandmamma ain't run way from Spain with de gypsy boy you would'a been lost to him and your destinies unaware. Him slayed dat thief who tried to steal your virtue and you gave it away to him after the rabbi with the glass eye married you." She smiled slyly.

"You will not torment him or I shall stand her for eternity calling you out for the witch that you are." She threatened.

"Him torment him self plenty waiting at da turn at da apple tree."

"I don't want him to wait. It was my fault. I was stupid for running on that slippery dock that morning thinking it was his ship in the harbor. He should go on and I'll find a way to catch up. It was my fault." She moved closer to the dock. "I don't want him thinking that I'm not there because I chose not to be."

"A good woman you are to love such a devil."

"He is a good man." She grew angry. "He saved my life at a risk to his own. And, I promise you, that the devil wouldn't have waited a year for his prize whilst he begged my father for my hand."

Tia Dalma smiled sweetly. "And him was always true to you while him was away."

"He never broke a promise he made to me nor I to him." She smiled. "It was only ten years, but the happiest ten years of my life. I've loved him with all my heart ever since."

"And him love you wit da same honesty. And dat is why him don't have to wait. De good in him heart out weighs da bad even with da pistol's lead in it."

"Then tell me how to find the road."

"I can not tell you dat now, because only Davy Jones knows de way when I am imprisoned as I be. But, if I be freed from des terrible torments and entrapments, I could tell you, so dat you can be de one waiting for her love when him come down the road a second time."

"A second time?"

"Him don't need to be dead, if him just waitin' around."

"You can bring the dead back to life?"

"I have de body. I only need da soul."

The temptation exposed the temptress and unnerved the woman in the water.

"I fear that I have misrepresented myself, Madame. I will not sell my husband's soul to a witch for my own desires." She stepped backward into the deeper water threatening to disappear into the depths. "I'll accept the misery that I have brought upon myself and pray that he will torment himself no longer with my memory. This is wickedness into which I shall not descend further."

Tia Dalma lurched forward and grabbed the other woman's arm. "I am not wicked or evil, Josephina, we want but de same thing. Fate has separated both us women from the man her loves. Love for love's sake don't be wicked and can't be evil. My word is good and, by de nature of what I am, I cannot lie to another woman." She let her go and offered her hand instead. "Besides, can't sell a soul dat ain't there no more. Hector Barbossa traded him soul away under dat apple tree all dem years ago. That which him gave to you can't be bartered away to me. A soul ain't like da heart chopped out and locked in a box." She laughed. "It ain't transferable no more. Not many a man can give away him soul, but him did. And it belong to you always."

She looked at the witch's outstretched hand.

"Your Hector knows the way to the Farthest Gate, him sail wicked waters without fear and him knows the secrets him father passed on from him father. Him courageous and bold."

She remained skeptical. "What will you demand of him?"

"I will trade him another life for freeing me from these human bonds."

Unconvinced, she pressed for more information. "And that entails?"

The witch laughed, "Now, I understand why him love you, she be shrewd and crafty like him be. Unneeded though it is, dis ain't de old spice market down round de corner from the tea shop with all de cats." She wagged her finger. "Him must gather up all de nine pieces of eight de Brethren used to curse me, including de one da witty deadman still holds in Davy Jones' locker. Him will den set me free and when I be freed, you'll know de way to de apple tree."

"What do you ask of me?"

"Him stubborn as I say before," she cooed. "Him won't listen to me. You need to tell him to wake up."

She shook her head. "I can't, I don't remember how to get out of the water."

Tia Dalma made a fist with the hand she held out and when she unclenched it there was a black hermit crab's shell resting in her palm. "Hold tight to it. It'll only last until him open him eyes."

As her feet touched the dock, the soaked white shroud transformed into the heavy silk gown Josephina wore on the day she died. Everything from the jade combs in her dark hair to the rings on her fingers had been restored. The sultry air of the swamp filled her lungs with life. She fought the desire to bolt into the darkness to preserve her mortality. However, a life without him was as meaningless as a death without him.

Dutifully, the dead woman followed the witch into the shack and back into the little room where the body of her husband lay in repose. She gasped as her gaze took in the sight of his body on the bed. He was wearing his boots, fully clothed and his hands folded across his stomach. His broad brimmed black hat hung from the post of the bedstead. She smiled as she recognized the hatband she had given him so many years before, but she doubted the ostrich feathers were the same ones. His open shirt was the only thing out of place in the illusion that he had just laid down for a midafternoon nap. She smiled sadly as the possibility of him simply waking up faded away. No, she knew that if he thought that he might be awakened at any moment, he was too much of a gentleman to leave his shirt untucked and unbuttoned. Distracted, she sat down on the edge of the bed to address the witch's affront to his dignity and there noticed its cause. Tia Dalma had removed the pistol shot from his chest. The jagged laceration made it clear that the witch lacked the basic skills of a surgeon or good butcher for that matter. She frowned as she traced her finger over the simple stitch threaded along the gruesome scar. His skin was cold.

"My needlepoint ain't as pretty as yours, but it will hold just fine." Tia Dalma said defensively.

She had forgotten the other woman was there. "What do I do?"

"You tell him to wake up and let him know he needs to stay." She sighed. "Don't be cruel and give him too much grief with your presence or he'll follow you back."

Josephina turned her back to the witch. In her right hand she held the crab shell tightly. She wanted to prolong the few moments she had with him. Gently, she traced her fingers over his face and leaned over to smooth his hair before pressing her forehead against his. It did not matter that his skin was cold. She touched her cheek to his and fighting her tears, she took a deep breath. "Don't open your eyes, Hector," she whispered into his ear, "Wake up, but don't open your eyes."

His body convulsed violently as the life returned to it and she pressed her fingers over his eyes lest he open them and cut short their fleeting moment. She could feel his skin grow warmer. After a few minutes, a weak hand reached out and touched her arm.

"Don't open your eyes, my love, not yet." She repeated as he pulled her hand away and gripped it tightly. "We'll be together again and I'll be the one waiting for you at the apple tree where you asked me marry you and I turned you down because you were an old pirate and my father would never allow it."

He smiled weakly at the memory and pulled her hand to his lips to kiss it.

"You wouldn't give up, my sweet Hector, but my father only gave in because my grandmother threatened him." Tears welled up in her eyes. She did not want to leave him. He pulled her closer. "It was worth the wait."

"You be the best part of me life." He whispered hoarsely.

"Then you will live, so that I can be the one waiting for you and then we'll be together always. I promise." She kissed him passionately. The warmth of his embrace was intoxicating, but she let the shell drop from her hand before her grief made it impossible to leave him. "_Adio_, _kerido_."


End file.
